


Something Like Companionship

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is hospitalized after an attack, and Hannibal steps in to keep vigil over him. But even after he wakes up, even after his recovery is underway, Hannibal seems more than willing to keep watch over him, to be as intimately close to Will without the man suspecting that when he looks at Will, he sees the possibility of family, smells the sweet scent of companionship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Companionship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharlieMads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMads/gifts).



> [causticquery](http://causticquery.tumblr.com/) requested a hurt/comfort fic as entertainment while they will be away. I wanted to do something a little longer than a prompt for the occasion...and we ended up with this wild, crazy, I don't quite know what thing. I ended up turning it into a little bit of an experiment- focusing on Hannibal (since I usually focus on Will), and attempting to write Abigail for the first time (and god I cannot get enough of her.)
> 
> So, yeah. It's also a _very ___like M. I almost rated it T but then decided some of it was a little too much for that. If you're looking for sex, sadly, you won't find much here. It's all emotions.

The hospital room was dim, borderline dark in the early evening. The curtains were closed tightly, the only light coming from the setting sun creeping in through the thin fabric, and the lights on the machines hooked up to Will.

Hannibal sat in a chair, pushed intimately close to Will’s bed, legs crossed and leaning back, just watching him. He’d been watching Will since he was admitted- since Hannibal called the ambulance and clutched at the man who had stumbled out of the house, blood running in heavy torrents down his back and legs, eyes glossy- so close to shock he would have been going numb already. The house was supposed to be empty, the original owner had moved two months prior. Will had wanted to take a peek at the house, to see if maybe the owner had committed any of his atrocities while he lived there-

He had thought of it during his session with Hannibal. The psychiatrist had driven him, intrigued, as always, to watch Will work, to see his thoughts turning behind his eyes. There had been no back up, no call in about it- there was no reason to think the house might still be in use. And it might give Will the evidence he needed to make a real argument against this man- this man he was so sure was stringing his victims by their ankles and leaving them bled dry in their homes. Will thought maybe it had started in a secure area, in his own home- and that was why he had moved, sold the house. To separate himself, to protect himself.

He had been right, to a point. He hadn’t anticipated the man being there, locking away his tools of the trade beneath old floorboards.

He hadn’t gone for his gun fast enough, Hannibal was sure. Will had asked him to wait outside for a minute, and Hannibal had obliged him. He hadn’t even realized anything had happened, at first, when Will appeared in the doorway. Only when he saw him slump slightly, clutching at the door frame, did eh realize something was amiss.

Will had met him on the lawn, slumping to his knees, and Hannibal followed him down, finding the back of his shirt torn, cut through in sharp, ragged stab points, the blood from the lower wounds sticking to the backs of his thighs. He had leaned into Hannibal, forehead to his chest, shaking, clutching onto Hannibal, and the man’s usual detachment had begun to dissolve.

Hannibal had just to leave the hospital. Will had been unconscious since he was admitted the night prior, twenty hours or so. They’d taken him directly into surgery, unsure what organs may have been damaged. He was lucky- one of his kidneys took a gentle nick, but it hadn’t been serious. In fact, Will had been exceptionally lucky- not an injury to his lungs or spine, either. Just blood loss and shock. There was a concern for infection, since they hadn’t recovered the blade, and there had been debris- dirt and possibly rust, in the wounds. But the doctors had told Hannibal Will would recover, he’d just be in pain for some time.

Still, Hannibal refused to leave. Jack had met him at the hospital and asked if he had seen the man. Hannibal hadn’t. He hadn’t gone in the house, the entire world had disappeared, froze and then crumbled away as he held Will. The man was still at large.

Which explained the guard outside Will’s door. For good measure while they looked for culprit.

Hannibal reached up a ran a hand along his face, exhausted. His jacket and vest were piled on the small table- bloodied, forgotten, and he had stripped of his tie by mid-morning, but refused to leave. Not until Will was awake.

He leaned forward, reaching out to the bed and tracing his fingers along Will’s arm. He could touch Will now, touch him without worry that the man might think something of it. There had been a thrill, underneath the controlled panic, of holding Will against him while he called for an ambulance. There had been a thrill in finally having his arms around him.

Hannibal bowed his head, eyelids heavy. He hadn’t slept. He’d drank coffee that was stale dirt and water and made his stomach ache pitifully, hadn’t shaved or showered, and was rather firm in not looking at himself in a tiny mirror in the bathroom of Will’s hospital room. He could see he looked a wreck by the way Alana’s eyes had enlarged when she saw him. She had stopped in, earlier that morning, had been unable to stay because she was covering the class Will could obviously not teach. But she had needed to see him.

She had told Hannibal to go home- in her gentle way, trying to reason that his presence wouldn’t change a thing. He could arrange to have the hospital call him when Will woke up. Her eyes spoke volumes- confusion as to why he felt the need to sit by the man’s bed, a longing to sit there herself, concern over both of them-

But curiosity as to what was driving him. So much curiosity. Ever the thinker, he was somewhat proud of Alana for her curiosity- and thankful she did not voice it. He wasn’t sure he could muster the properly veiled response he needed.

“I won’t tell Abigail,” she had whispered at the door, “Until he’s awake.”

Hannibal had thanked her for that. At the moment, he couldn’t handle both, he was stretched too thin as it was. His mind was fraying at the edges, every beep from the monitors hooked up to Will’s lax, complacent body sent a spike so deep into his mind that something disconnected. He sighed, eyes still closed, fingers tracing down to Will’s hand, his own covering it. A moment passed, and he felt it twitch in his grasp, heard the sounds of hair moving against the pillow. He jerked his head up, saw Will had turned his head, was looking at him with glossy grey eyes, half open.

Hannibal didn’t know what to say. For a moment he thought he had drifted into sleep, but then there was the faintest of smiles on Will’s face, his dry lips parted. Hannibal leaned closer, pressed his hand tighter to Will’s. “What-“ Will’s voice was a broken croak, and he tried to clear his throat, grimaced. “Ha-ppened?”

“You were stabbed,” Hannibal whispered, his own voice feeling faint, echoing in his throat and chest and head and barely able to leave his lips. “The house, the man was there. He stabbed you six times, Will. You’re lucky you’re alive.” Will nodded, licking his lips, and Hannibal felt his stomach tug painfully. “You have been unconscious for over twenty hours. The knife managed to miss vital organs- one of your kidneys took slight damage, but the doctor informed me you would recover with it fully functioning.”

Will nodded. His eyes were a little clearer, but not much. Hannibal knew he would be sleeping again soon, and he didn’t know what else to fill the space with. What words? That he was grateful to see him staring at him again, that he’d stretch out on the floor for the night if Will desired it? That if Will ever scared him like this again, he’d be sure to mutilate him himself?

None of those seemed accurate for a friend to voice, and Hannibal instead kept silent. He could not risk that wall between he and Will being put up now- not when the man was in such a fragile state. Better left unsaid- if only unthought. He squeezed Will’s hand, and the man smiled more at that, though it looked as if it took most of the energy he had left. Carefully, he worked his lips, whispering hoarsely, “Hannibal,” and turned his hand, squeezing Hannibal’s weakly, before he left his eyes flutter closed.

Within minutes he was asleep again, and Hannibal wasn’t sure if he could lift every piece of himself and fit them back into their appropriate places.

*

He had forced himself to stand, to tell the nurses that Will had woken, briefly, and was sleeping again. They came in quickly to check the machines, and Hannibal finally took his leave, making the drive home in a daze. He forwent dinner despite his achingly empty stomach, even a shower despite the thin film of grim he felt encased him, even if no one else seemed to notice. Instead he fell into his bed, still dressed in the remains of his rumpled clothing, and slept, grey eyes behind his eyelids and the fear that they wouldn’t open again, as absurd as it was.

*

When he next entered the hospital, the following morning, he was clean shaven, showered, and properly dressed. He could have used a few more hours of sleep, but a strong cup of coffee had fixed that need. The nurses gave him long glances as he made his way to Will’s room- the appreciative kind, contrasting the image he held now to the tired man who had left Will’s room yesterday afternoon, a mess.

Inside Will’s room, he found the man propped up, turning through a paperback with eyes that seemed far too awake for the state he should be in. Will looked up when he came in, letting the book rest more in his lap and smiling slightly, in the corners of his mouth.

“It is good to see you awake,” Hannibal said, walking over and setting the bag he was carrying down on the table. Will watched, curious- Hannibal could feel it, and that curiosity was a relief. It was a sign that Will was alive, would remain so in all its entirety.

“I’m not sure it feels good to be awake,” Will said, his voice still somewhat hoarse. “I don’t know what they’ve got me on, but I still feel more than I’d like.” Hannibal gave a chuckle, opening his bag and pulling out one of his fine, jade ceramic bowls, his thermos, and a spoon. Will’s eyes flickered, even more curious now.

“Have you eaten?”

“They tried to get me to eat something,” Will admitted, “I woke up on and off all night, so they thought I could handle it. I don’t think it was food, though. Some sort of oatmeal. They don’t want me eating anything too solid.” He laughed, sharp and biting, ending in a small noise of discomfort. “Shit, that hurt.”

Hannibal set the bowl on his small bedside table, lifting the lid and setting a spoon next to it. He moved the table so it was pressed over the bed, directly in front of Will, who was looking at it.

“It’s simply some seasoned broth,” he said, “I know you are not up for much more today. Perhaps tomorrow I can bring you a more proper breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to,” Will mumbled, although he didn’t argue. He was feeling a little hungry, enough that he wanted to put something in his stomach, and he needed to get the taste of the hospital food he had attempted to eat out of his mouth. Even the one bite had stained his taste buds. Hannibal watched Will as he carefully spooned small amounts of the broth, making little pleased noises. “You know, dinners with you are probably why I can’t stomach the food here.”

Hannibal laughed then, opening the thermos and pouring the steaming liquid inside into one of the small cups. Will watched. “I am praying you will say that’s coffee.”

“I apologize,” Hannibal said, setting the cup on his tray, “for the disappointment, then. You do not need the caffeine in your current state. It is green tea. It will soothe your throat.” Will nodded, taking another spoonful of the broth before lifting the cup and letting the warmth seep into his hands. Hannibal watched and Will let him, seeming rather comfortable under the gaze, unlike usual. Hannibal could only speculate as to why.

He took a sip, closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled slightly. “Thank you,” he said, opening them again, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Friends take care of their friends in times of need,” Hannibal offered, pulling up a chair and settling next to the bed. “And you are my friend, Will.”

“And your patient.”

“Are you?” Hannibal asked, “Or are we simply having conversations?” Will didn’t respond, and Hannibal looked at the discarded paperback in his lap. “Have they provided you with good reading material?”

“Hardly.” Will took another spoonful of the broth, then pushed the try away. “I’m not sure what sort of trash I’m reading, but I have a feeling some versions of it have a half naked man on the cover, and that in about fifty pages it will be pornographic.” He gave a nervous laugh, and Hannibal found he was chuckling. It was easy to laugh with this man.

“I will see what I can find you that is more...suited to your tastes.” Hannibal reached for the book, plucking it from Will’s lap, felt his thigh under the blanket as he did so. He noticed a slight rise in the color of Will’s cheeks- and wondered if he had imagined it.

“You don’t need to do that,” Will said, quietly- then added, as almost a mumble, “Are you staying?”

Hannibal had flipped a stack of pages ahead, and was about to see if Will’s accusations of the book had been accurate. Instead he lifted his eyes, looked at the man and noticed he was waiting almost tense for an answer. “Not for long,” Hannibal admitted, “I have a two patients today. But I will return once their appointments have ended.”

Will exhaled, smiling. He didn’t tell Hannibal that it wasn’t necessary.

*

There was a gap between Hannibal’s appointments of over an hour. He took the time to slip into a quiet little book store in a search for things far more stimulating for Will to read then poorly written pornography, then returned for his second session. Once complete, he stopped at his home to refresh the thermos of tea, and pack up a second broth- beef, this time- then returned to the hospital.

This time, Will had other company. Beverly was sitting next to him, laughing, and Will looked far more alive than he had this morning, although there was a tightness to his mouth that suggested pain. Hannibal was sure it would be there for quite some time.

“Dr. Lecter,” Beverly said, looking over, “Well hello all-star. Come on in.” He gave her a nod in greeting and came in, settling his bag on the table. “Have you seen the book Will is reading?”

“I’m afraid I have,” Hannibal said, pulling out the thermos and pouring Will a small cup of tea. The man took it gratefully, fingers brushing along Hannibal’s hand.

“Have you heard Will trying to read it in character?” That stopped Hannibal. He watched the man blush as he sipped at the tea, then was shaking his head.

“Beverly shut up. I’m sorry Hannibal...we were just really bored. You’re not interested in that.” Hannibal gave him a smile, pulling a few books from his bag and slipping around Beverly’s chair, settling them on Will’s tray.

“I have brought you what I hope is far better mental stimulation.” Will glanced at him, then the books. It appeared like one may have been a novel, but one spine mentioned something on lures, and he realized Hannibal had bought him a _fishing_ book.

“You didn’t have to,” Will whispered, “But thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He moved back to the bag, pulling out a small, lidded bowl, and leaving it on the table. “And when you are hungry, I have brought you another light dinner. I promise a change in flavors. I wouldn’t want you to grow bored of my cooking.” Will’s cheeks tinged, and Beverly was grinning.

“You brought him books and dinner? Will, make this guy a friendship bracelet or something, god.” She laughed, stood up, “I’m going to go get some coffee and stretch my legs. Why don’t you two catch up?” She slipped out, and Hannibal took up her seat, taking the empty cup from Will and setting it aside.

“They had me get up,” Will said, “It hurt like hell, but I walked around. They told me tomorrow they’re going to let me take a bath. Well...a sponge bath.” He snorted his laughter. “Which is ridiculous.”

“They do not want to irritate your wounds while they heal.”

“Still, I’d rather not have a stranger getting to know me like that.” Hannibal only nodded, wondering if Will would be more comfortable if he knew the person touching him. Hannibal wondered if he could be that person touching him- not here, not in the confines of the hospital that smelled terribly of strong bleach, covering up the scent of stale vomit and inevitable death, all mixed into a latex glove- but in his own home, to the smells of sandalwood and lavender, with Will’s soft skin under his fingertips.

Hannibal realized Will was talking, and forced the images from his mind, focusing in on his words. “-me out of here as fast as they can get me. Not that I’m complaining, I’d love to get out of his place.” Hannibal nodded, wishing he had caught the rest of that statement, but unable to ask Will to repeat himself. “Jack was in while you were gone.” Hannibal nodded, realized he had noticed the guard outside Will’s door had disappeared. “The guy’s still out there.”

“And yet your guard was removed.” Will shrugged.

“We don’t think he’s going to come after me. Too risky, he’s get caught. He just wants to disappear right now. I’m fine.” He reached out, placed his hand over Hannibal’s without much thought, and Hannibal turned his hand palm up so their fingers could lace. Will let him. “Jack told me you were the one that called the ambulance.”

“Did he?” Will nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t remember anything, really. He said I passed out in the ambulance. If you hadn’t called them right when you did, I might have bled out. I...owe you a lot, Hannibal.” Will didn’t look at him, was staring down at the creases in the white sheet covering his legs. “He told me you...you were here, until I woke up. That you didn’t leave.”

“He would be correct.” Will still didn’t raise his eyes, but his hands closed tighter on Hannibal’s.

“You didn’t need to do that. I’m sorr-“

“No apology necessary,” Hannibal offered, “You are my friend, Will, and I care for you.” Hannibal realized he may not have needed to add that, and tried to think of a way to cover it, but his mind was blank. He was still tired, and Will was gripping his hand in a way that sent warm, distracting tingles under his skin and up his arm.

Will looked at him and smiled. He seemed to be contemplating words, when a nurse came in, tapping her pen against a clip board, and Hannibal excused himself to allow her to examine Will. A glance back just before he left showed him Will pulling the sheet away and turning onto his side so she could remove his bandages.

Hannibal found Beverly in the hallway, nursing her coffee. She smiled at him as he settled next to her where she leaned coolly against the wall.

“It means a lot,” she started, “what you’re doing for him.” Hannibal looked at her, silently questioning, and she shrugged a shoulder. “He told me you were here this morning. He told me what Jack told him, that you were here until he opened his eyes. Jack made a joke about you ruining a suit because of all the blood. Maybe not the most tasteful but...Will’s thankful for you. You should know.” She sipped at her coffee, grimacing a little. “This stuff is awful.”

“Perhaps I will ask the nurse if she believes Will can handle coffee tomorrow. I can bring something far more pleasing.” Beverly smiled, pushing her arm against his playfully, gently.

“So you’re coming back?” A brief nod. “Good. The nurse earlier said Will can eat real food tomorrow. They’re going take-no-prisoners on him, they want him out of here. He’s not complaining, but he’s hurting. Your company will really make it easier.”

“If Will desired it, I would not leave this hospital until he did.” Hannibal realized too late what he had said, and Beverly smile changed into something softer around the edges, something knowing and appreciating.

“I don’t doubt it. You know, you’d have to hold onto him pretty close and for quite some time to get as much blood on you as Jack described.” She shrugged a shoulder, not elaborating, just smiling. Hannibal wondered if Will had noticed that, as well.

When the nurse emerged Hannibal and Beverly reentered the room. Will was grimacing, obviously uncomfortable, but he smiled at them regardless. Beverly settled on one side of the bed, while Hannibal set up Will’s tray for his light dinner, moving silently. Will thanked him quietly as Hannibal sat next to him, aware that Beverly was watching the way he watched Will, aware that she had an unexplainable smile on her face.

*

Hannibal made frequent appearances over the next few days. He would bring Will breakfast- and coffee, once it was permitted, which made the man smile all the more- would stop by again sometime in the afternoon or late evening, when his appointments allowed, to bring him dinner. The nurses knew him by name, and made jokes about how he should stop down in the kitchens and show the staff a thing or two.

Will asked about his dogs, and Hannibal found that Alana was caring for them- had after taking Will’s class that first day gone to the house and gathered them up. She would keep them until he was ready to return home.

Will never asked about that night, or the following twenty-four hours. Hannibal noticed he avoided the topic rather vehemently. But he asked Hannibal about his patients, what he could ask that is, about how he was. He seemed more interested than the psychiatrist remembered.

He took Hannibal’s hand when it rested on his bed. He avoided looking at the man on the initial contact, but then it was as if nothing had happened. Hannibal never pulled free unless absolutely necessary. More often than not he found his thumb stroking along Will’s skin and wondered if the man noticed.

The hospital wanted to give Will an early discharge, but his doctor wasn’t keen on sending him home where he was isolated with seven dogs to care for. Too stressful, he pointed out. He wanted someone close in case Will needed help for the first week. Hannibal had been in the room at the time, had felt his pulse elevating as the idea crossed his mind. He might have kept silent, had Will not looked at him, briefly but unblinking, before dragging his eyes back to his doctor.

Hannibal offered. He’d have Will stay with him for a week, to make sure he was properly cared for. His office was not far from home, and he would only step out for his appointments. The doctor seemed mildly thrilled, and Will put up a very polite, gently, _oh you don’t need to do that_ , but his heart wasn’t in it.

Hannibal wasn’t sure what to make of that.

*

“My bedroom is just down the hall,” Hannibal said, settling Will’s bag on the floor. Alana had been kind enough to go to Will’s house and pick up some clothing for him. Hannibal wished he had been able to do it himself, but he had thanked her regardless, had noticed the peculiar look she gave him- questioning but not daring to actually voice her confusion. Yet. He expected he would hear from her soon. He anticipated a very interesting conversation. “I will be close if you should need anything.”

“Thank you,” Will whispered, hands in his pockets. He was standing, careful not to move too much. Hannibal knew he was still in a good deal of pain, had watched him take the pills the nurse had offered before he left. “You really have done way too much, Hannibal.”

“I have most certainly not, not for a friend.” He smiled. “Would you care to lie down for a bit?”

“I’ve been in a hospital bed for way too long,” Will said, even as his eyes drifted to the bed.

“A hospital bed is _not_ a bed, Will. Please, lay down for a bit.” Hannibal walked to the bed, turned the blanket down, and Will padded over in his socked feet, very carefully crawling in. He laid out on his stomach, free of IV lines and all the other wires hooking him up to machines,he was finally able to relax and not press against his wounds. A small sigh slipped past his lips, one Hannibal caught and bottled mentally, a delicious little sound, and pulled the blanket up over him.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal smiled and gave him a little nod. “I will be downstairs if you require anything. Otherwise, I will come check on you in a few hours.”

Hannibal flicked the light on his way out, leaving the door open a crack and making his way downstairs. It was early afternoon, and Hannibal settled in his living room with his tablet, checking his schedule. He wanted to keep his days as light as possible for the next week, to cancel anything that was not a necessary engagement. His appointments had to remain, but all other meetings, minor meal plans he had were going to go. His simple explanation, over the phone, was that a minor emergency had come up that would require his attention during the week. No, no he was alright, and he would make sure to reschedule.

Once taken care of, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to begin making dinner. Neither he nor Will had eaten lunch he knew, and an early dinner would leave Will plenty of time after to sleep. Hannibal assumed the first day or two the man would spend enjoying sleeping in a real bed.

He mused as he pulled his jacket and vest off that perhaps he could rouse Will into talking a walk with him. He stripped of his tie, popping the top two buttons of his shirt and expertly rolling his sleeves up, thinking it would be good exercise for the man. The fresh air would do him good, perhaps take his mind away from the ordeal.

Hannibal was in the middle of cooking when he heard the doorbell, echoing through the house. He frowned, not expecting anyone. With a sigh he peeked into the oven, then left the pan he had been working with on the stove and walked towards the door. When he opened it, Alana’s eyes met his, taking only a second to take in his state of dress.

“Alana,” he said, forcing himself to sound pleased. He suddenly knew that conversation he knew they would be having was coming sooner than he had expected or desired. “What a lovely surprise.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she said, stepping inside as he closed the door and slipping her coat off. He took it and hung it up. “I should have.”

“You know you are always a welcome guest.” _Almost always_ \- now, not so much. “Please, come in. I apologize, I do not want anything to burn.” He made his way back towards the kitchen, Alana following, stopping just before she could brush the counter as he took up his place by the stove again.

“We need to talk,” she said, then, as if in an after thought, “Where’s Will?”

“Resting,” Hannibal offered, “He has been for about an hour, maybe more. I believe he was rather relieved to lay down in a real bed.” Alana nodded. “Would you care for a drink?”

“No, no thank you.” She tapped her fingers on the counter, collecting herself. “It’s very generous, what you’re doing for Will.”

“My home is always open to friends.”

“So you say, yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take anyone in until Will.”

“The opportunity simply had not come up until now.” He regretted his choice of the word _opportunity_ , and knew Alana would take note of it. She had, after all, spent enough time around him to notice.

“Hannibal, be honest with me.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “What’s really going on? If you’re really that concerned for Will then all the more credit to you, but I don’t believe it’s that. Or, not just that. Are you curious about him? To see how his mind is going to recover from the attack?”

“I do not share the same professional curiosity about Will Graham with you,” he pointed out, leaving his pan to peek in the oven again. Everything seemed in order, and he took the time to get himself a glass of wine as Alana continued.

“Then what sort of interest do you have in Will?” Hannibal turned to her, holding his glass. Instead of answering his took a careful sip. “Hannibal do you...you were with him a lot while he was in the hospital. More than any of us.”

“I had the leisure of being able to rearrange my schedule.”

“You were clinging to him when the paramedics got to you.” Hannibal stared at her then, eyes turning hard. He set the wine glass down, curious how she could know that. “Look, I may have over stepped some boundaries, but I...I tracked down the paramedics who brought Will in. I thanked them for saving his life, that’s what they I thought I was there to do. And they told me that when they got there, you had him pressed to you almost like you were...holding a sick child. That’s why you were so covered in blood.”

“Curious how easily strangers talk,” Hannibal said with little feeling, wondering how difficult it would be to get the paramedics’ names. Alana was frowning.

“Do you have feelings for Will?” Hannibal clicked his stove off, moving his pan to a cool burner, and wiped his hands on his apron, ignoring her question. Alana waited a moment, saw him instead moving to the counter to cut up a few vegetables he had waiting. “Dammit Hannibal, do not ignore me. Do you?”

“Do you, Alana?”

“You know the answer to that.” She sighed, exasperated. “You know I do. Did. It’s still a little hazy, honestly. I care about Will. And I know that I can’t be what I’d like to him, because of my curiosity. So answer me, and honestly. Do you have feelings for Will Graham?”

Hannibal cut very carefully, debating her question, the many answers he could give, the repercussions of each. He contemplated in seconds the ache of feeling Will limp in his arms, of clutching him against his body and debating a belief in God simply to pray.

“Yes,” he finally said, not looking up from his work. Alana waited for him to elaborate, but he offered her nothing more. She slumped her shoulders slightly.

“Abigail has been asking about him,” she said, “She’s not happy that we did not allow her to see him in the hospital. I explained we wanted Will to recover as quickly as possible, and that we did not want her to have a visible tie to him in case this guy came around again. But she’s anxious.”

“Perhaps the two of you should join us for dinner,” Hannibal offered, “Tomorrow night.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. She’s asked about you too. She wants you to visit.”

“And I will again, once Will has recovered properly.” Alana didn’t comment on that. “Would eight be too late?”

“No,” she whispered, and Hannibal wasn’t sure he could read the many thoughts running along her eyes, “No it’s not.”

*

Hannibal was plating dinner when Will appeared, rubbing his eyes, in his kitchen. Hannibal stopped to watch, taking in the mess of curls, the way he attempted to stretch that ended with a hiss of pain. “Was I out long?”

“Not even three hours,” Hannibal said, walking around and taking him by the arm. “I was just about to wake you. Please, come sit down.” Will allowed himself to be led to the dining room and settled down. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder briefly, before returning to the kitchen, emerging carrying their plates. He placed one in front of Will, and then in at his own space, before moving back into the kitchen. He removed his apron and redressed, pouring Will a glass of water and then refilling his own wine glass, returning and handing the glass to Will.

“Thank you,” Will said, taking a drink. “It’s a shame about the pain meds I’m on- I’m not sure I’ve ever needed a glass of wine so badly in my life.”

Hannibal laughed, watching Will smile and cut into his food, taking a small bite, and making a small, pleased noise. His smile broadened. “Alana stopped by while you were resting.”

“She did?” Will’s interest piqued at that, and Hannibal felt a small tug of jealousy in his chest. He ignored it.

“Yes, simply inquiring about you. She informed me that Abigail is rather annoyed we did not allow her to see you in the hospital.”

“She spent enough time in the hospital, she didn’t need to be in there to visit me.” Will took a drink of his water.

“Oh, I agree. Still, her concern is touching. I have invited them to dinner tomorrow night, so that she may see you. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience me?” Will stopped to laugh, wincing slightly because it pulled at his healing wounds. “Hannibal, I’m staying in your house. You somehow managed to visit me multiple times every day while I was in the hospital. You fed me. You’re basically putting your life on hold to make sure I manage to not fuck up healing. There is no way anything _you do_ could be an inconvenience to me.” He was shaking his head in almost disbelief. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you for all of this.”

“There is no need,” Hannibal said softly, “but if you feel an absolute need, then all you must do is recover.” Will watched Hannibal, his eyes softening, stormy but almost readable. Hannibal wasn’t sure if it was gratitude or affection he was seeing- hoping for the latter but assuming the former. He dared to reach out, place his hand over Will’s with a smile. “Now finish your dinner. You cannot heal if you don’t eat.”

Will averted his eyes, but was slow to pull his hand away.

*

Will was not allowed to shower yet, which he blatantly pointed out irritated him. All he was allowed to do was sit in a bath tub, half full, and sponge his skin down. That submerged the lowest of his wounds, but thankfully enough the smallest. The doctor had told him it was fine, so long as he was careful.

Hannibal had followed Will into his bedroom, offering an arm at the top of the stairs when he noticed Will’s fatigued drop of his shoulders. His pain medication was leaving him worn thin and tired. Yet it did not deter Will from the minor rant he was going on, as he, out of habit, began to unbutton his shirt. Hannibal tried to keep his eyes on Will’s face, but he couldn’t help a flicker down to the man’s throat, to his collar bone, the slivers of his chest being exposed.

“Will,” he finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, walking over to him, “Would you like a hand?”

“Huh?” Will looked down, realized he had his shirt open, and blushed. “Oh, shit. Sorry, habit and all. What do you mean?”

“Well, you had a nurse helping you while you were in the hospital-“

“Oh. _Oh_. Hannibal, no, no that’s fine. I can do it. I’m not broken.” He laughed, ending with a wince. “Well, not completely. I’m starting to feel it, though.” He walked over to the bedside table, grabbing one of the pill bottles and popping it open, dumping two of the painkillers into his palm and taking them dry. “They gave me a different kind to start tomorrow,” Will said, “Or, well, when these run out. Which I can say will be tomorrow. Maybe they’re stronger.”

Hannibal was frowning. He didn’t like to see Will in pain. It did something to the corners of his eyes and mouth. Disrupted the natural flow of his emotions on his face. He nodded to Will’s refusal of help. “Is there anything you need?”

“No,” Will said, “No, but thank you, Hannibal. Honestly, I think I’m going to pass out again after I...clean up.”

“At least allow me to help you with the bandages, after.” Will gave a reluctant nod, and Hannibal left him, walking to his own room. He took his time changing, forgoing his robe and waiting in the plush chair he kept in the corner of his room, book in hand. When Will appeared in his doorway, he was shirtless and agitated, still partially wet. Hannibal didn’t say a word, he simply set his book down and followed him down to his room, glancing at the bandages still clinging to his skin, spotting a back with a perfect spinal curve that Hannibal would have liked to trace with his tongue.

Hannibal had Will sit on the bed, gathering up the necessary things the hospital had provided, Hannibal wetting a cloth with warm water. He pulled the tape off of Will’s skin very carefully, daring to rub his thumb along the sensitive skin where it had been. He heard Will inhale, and Hannibal wanted to press his mouth to the skin, to kiss the slightly reddened lines, the healing wounds, along that alluring curve of his spine. Instead he bit his cheek until he tasted a hint of blood and worked to get every bandage off. Once he had, he gently worked the cloth over Will’s skin, just touching around the skin where the tape from his bandages had been.

Will made a soft, little sound, his head dropping forward a bit. Hannibal dared to reach his other hand out, slip it against Will’s waist, as it to keep him guided into place. He felt his pulse rising- something Hannibal was not accustomed to, and it nearly made him dizzy. Will made another sound as Hannibal pressed the wet heat of the cloth to another spot of skin untouched, and he ran his tongue along his wounded cheek to ground himself- telling himself it was enough, that he should stop, before he made himself too apparent.

Hannibal wasn’t even sure if he was trying to seduce Will, or simply pulling at strings to get closer to the man. For once, he simply _wasn’t sure_.

He set the cloth aside, using a fresh one to gently sweep once over each healing wound. Will sucked in a breath, and Hannibal wasn’t sure if it was good, or bad. Once that was done he set to applying fresh bandages, letting his fingers play over bits of flesh and wishing he could nuzzle into Will’s curls, kiss at his neck. Hepursed his lips and reminded himself he was in control.

“Thank you,” Will said as Hannibal secured the last bandage. “This shit is a pain. In many ways.” He looked back, smiling, and Hannibal couldn’t help himself- he smiled back, pressing his hand to the small of Will’s back, careful to avoid any irritated areas.

“Then I will be here to soothe the pain, until it is gone.”

Will’s cheeks tinged pink and he looked away, and Hannibal didn’t remember commanding his tongue to speak. It was dully terrifying.

*

Hannibal woke before Will- he was sure, by the stillness in the house around him. He put his robe on and made his way to the kitchen, beginning breakfast and letting the rich, full aroma of fresh coffee fill the house. He wasn’t surprise when, as he worked on the eggs in his pan, Will stumbled into the kitchen, yawning. While he had not put his glasses on, he had slipped into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms Hannibal didn’t care for. He’d seen Will stumble around in his underwear before, and he felt robbed of the privilege.

“Mornin’,” Will mumbled, stretching, wincing, but continuing the motion regardless. “God the entire house smells delicious.”

“Did I wake you?” Hannibal asked, filling a clear mug for Will and stirring in a single spoonful of sugar, before passing it to the man. Will gave him a lazy smile.

“Yes. And I’m glad you did.” He took a sip, sighing into the cup happily, and Hannibal poured his own, trying to hide his smile behind it. By the way Will’s eyes caught at his mouth, he was fairly sure he had failed.

*

Hannibal enjoyed watching Will eat. He’d decided that a long time ago, but there was something about him in the morning that was possibly more alluring. His attempts at being put together were forgotten, with his curls wild and untamed and looking rather _soft_ and delightful. Without his glasses his grey eyes seemed bright, flecks of hazel and blue decorating them like fine marble. They lit up every time he took a bite, and Hannibal wanted to lick the juice from an orange slice off his lips.

Instead he took a sip of his coffee and tried to not wonder what Will’s mouth tasted like.

“I hate to ask,” Will said, licking his lips absentmindedly and not helping Hannibal in his predicament in the slightest, “But...could you help me with...” he trailed off, jerked his head towards the space over his shoulder. “It’s hard to do on my own right now, they’re too...tender.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, and Will reached out and placed his hand over Hannibal’s, squeezing. Hannibal’s mind ran blank, and he didn’t think to stop staring at the way those gentle fingers ran over his hand as Will pulled away.

*

Will made those little noises again the drove Hannibal silently mad. His shower after helping Will was frigidly cold, enjoy to make his muscles ache under his skin. He dressed casually- for now, fully intending to change before Alana and Abigail arrived for dinner- pulling a lovely burgundy sweater over his faintly striped button down. He made his way down to Will’s room where he had left him, found him tossing an empty pill bottle into the small wastebasket.

“Are you in a great deal of pain?” he asked, and Will turned, stopping to flick his eyes over him. Hannibal wasn’t sure if it was simply appreciating his casual attire- or if there was more there. Behind his glasses, Will was leaving his eyes hard to read. Hannibal found it peculiar-

Or perhaps he was slipping.

It was a terrifying possible reality. One he was sure if he settled his mind on, he could stop. Yet he felt no real interest in that.

“Not a lot,” Will said, “But the doctor told me to use up these pain killers, he figured I’d need them.” Will picked up another full bottle. “Not sure what these ones will do. Maybe I’ll be lucky and I won’t need them.” He laughed, and while he looked pained around his eyes he kept it unspoken. That was an improvement.

“Come,” Hannibal said, “let’s take a walk. The exercise will be good therapy for you.”

Hannibal noted, before leaving, that there was a chill to the wind. Not wanting to risk Will becoming ill, he supervised him as he slipped a sweater on and then his jacket. Deciding it was not quite enough, Hannibal wrapped one of his own scarves around Will’s neck, a lovely sandy cashmere that made Will blush. Hannibal felt the heat of it all the way down to his neck.

Will walked close to him under the rather bright sun. He didn’t say much, but Hannibal didn’t mind the silence. He had to urge to grab Will’s hand, his arm, touch him in some way. Those urges were coming more and more frequently- he was beginning to think they never really went away, always there as a dull ache in his belly.

“Do you think Abigail was actually concerned?” Hannibal looked at Will, who had shoved his hands in his pockets. “About me?”

“Why would she not be truly concerned?”

“You forget- I killed dad.” Will gave a sharp, short, biting laugh. “Doesn’t matter how I feel about her, that’s always going to be hanging in the air, between us.”

“How do you feel about our Abigail?” Will stopped walking, stared at Hannibal and cocked his head slightly.

“Paternal,” he finally said, “ _Our_ Abigail?”

“Are we both not her fathers now?” Will sucked his lip into his mouth.

“I’d say you might be. I don’t think I qualify as replacement dad material.” Hannibal frowned, reaching out to softly toy with the scarf hanging down Will’s chest. The man exhaled rather audibly, and Hannibal wasn’t sure if the touch made him pleasantly anxious or annoyed. He didn’t pull away.

“You think far too little of yourself in this manner. Abigail may have her own matters to work through with you, William- but she had a fondness for you that you share in common with her. Do not dissuade yourself otherwise.” He trailed up the scarf, dared to run his fingers along Will’s neck, slipping in closer.

“H-how can you be so sure?” The slight stutter made Hannibal want to kiss him, seal his mouth shut and feel his breath against his lips. His hand drifted up to Will’s cheek, stroking his jawline.

“Because I do not find Abigail so difficult to read. Her concern was palpable, from what Alana has given me.”

“You haven’t seen her?”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” Will’s cheeks heated up, grew pink, and Hannibal drew even closer, his other hand finding Will’s other cheek, cradling his face gently. The younger man sucked in a breath, stared, and Hannibal bowed his head, brushing his lips ever so slightly over Will’s. He wanted to encase his mouth, to trace the seam of his lips with his tongue, but he dared not. He needed something excusable- not that even this faintest of kisses was- but something he could convince Will was nothing.

Will didn’t push him away, but he didn’t kiss him back. He let the slight movement happen, and then Hannibal was pulling back, releasing him, taking up his pace again. A moment passed before he heard Will walking again behind, stepping faster to catch up.

“When this settles down,” he said, “when I’m...better. When I’m back home. Maybe I should spend some time with Abigail. I don’t know what she likes- but maybe she could show me.”

Hannibal smiled, felt Will slip his arm into Hannibal’s gently. “That is a fine idea.”

*

Hannibal was in the kitchen when the door bell rang. From the living room he heard Will getting up- slowly, as the day had worn him thin and his pain was beginning to show. He gestured for Will to sit back down, making his way quickly to the door and opening it. Before he could greet Alana, Abigail burst past her, throwing her arms around Hannibal in a rushed embrace, forcing him back a step.

“Hello Abigail,” he said with an amused chuckle, his arms slipping around her, stroking her dark hair. “It is good to see you.”

“I missed you,” she whispered, pulling back, smiling that smile she reserved for him- the one of mutual understanding. He returned it, before releasing her and taking Alana’s coat.

“Good to see you,” he said, and she smiled at him, but said nothing.

“Do you need help in the kitchen?” Abigail asked, looking at Hannibal’s apron, then losing her focus as she heard footsteps and turned her head- stared at Will standing at the end of the room, hands in his pockets. He hadn’t changed, had kept his sweater over his flannel shirt. Hannibal hadn’t said anything- he was currently more concerned for Will’s comfort.

She stared at him for a moment, then turned away from Hannibal, walking towards him slowly. Hannibal watched, aware of Alana watching as well, as Abigail stared up at him for a moment, then very gingerly settled her arms around him, careful to rest her arms up along his, to his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you,” she whispered, and Hannibal wasn’t even sure Alana heard. By the way Will wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her firmly, it was far more than he had expected to hear. Hannibal smiled, feeling the urge to press Abigail between them, to sink a hand into Will’s curls and tell him to open his eyes and see what was in front of him. See the concept of family he thought so foreign-

It didn’t feel natural to Hannibal, either. But he was willing to feel out the cool waters, wade up to the waist before deciding whether the waters might drown him.

“Abigail,” he said, approaching, “Why don’y you and Will have a seat? I’m sure there’s much catching up to do. Alana can assist me.” He guided her towards the living room, noticed she took Will’s hand and led him towards the couch. He hesitated a moment, watching them settle in, something swelling sweetly in his chest.

He forced himself to ignore it, to return to the kitchen, Alana in tow. “Would you mind helping me plate dinner? It should be done.”

“Sure.” She followed his exact movements, handing him things and helping him arrange the plates as desired. All the while he felt her eyes on him, thinking, calculating, wondering- waiting. He purposefully moved slowly, curious what she had to say, not wanting to have it hanging over him during dinner. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes?”

“About what you...said.”

“What did I say, Alana?”

“That you had feelings for Will.” She folded her arms, hugging herself, defensive. “I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Jealous, I think. Maybe because you don’t seem bothered by them.”

“And your feelings bother you?”

“They did. At this point, not so much. I’m concerned for Will, now. I don’t think he could handle being pulled into an affair, Hannibal. I don’t know if it would be good for him.”

“I would disagree,” he said, finishing the final plate and removing his apron, rolling his sleeves down. “However, that does not matter. I’m not pursuing an affair with dear Will.”

“So you’re going to ignore your feelings, just like I did?” Hannibal was silent for a moment, working his tie around his neck and adjusting his collar. He spoke only as he was slipping his vest on.

“I kissed Will.” He didn’t look at her, buttoned his vest and slipped his jacket on. “I’m not ignoring them, Alana, but I am nor pursuing Will. Blindly. He will make up his own mind, if he chooses to see my intentions. If not- then he has made a decision regardless.”

“What,” Alana stopped, swallowed, “what did he do?”

“Nothing.” Hannibal nodded to a plate, and Alana lifted it. “Will did nothing. Not during, nor after. He chose to ignore it, and I believe that may be his decision in the final matter.”

“You don’t seem upset.” She lifted another plate, following Hannibal into the dining room and setting them accordingly on the table. “I would think...maybe you’d be a little put off.”

“I want Will to make his own decision. He has had many decisions taken form him and made for him- this will be a victory for him.”

“And a loss for you.” Hannibal smiled- the edges sad. Alana saw, and he knew.

“A victory for a friend is not a loss, Alana.”

*

Dinner was pleasant. Hannibal found the lively chatter Abigail brought was welcome, if only for the smile it brought to Will’s face. She was engaging him, more so than she usually did. He was pleased to sit back and enjoy this, would have been interested in allowing it to continue for the entire night if Will’s eyes didn’t have a tired, pained look by the end of dessert.

“Abigail,” Hannibal said, standing, “would you be so kind as to assist me? Perhaps allow Alana a chance to converse with Will as well.” He nodded to the two as Abigail stood up, following him into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

Hannibal had barely stripped of his jacket, vest, and tie before she was talking as he rolled his sleeves up.

“You’ve got a thing for Will.”

He turned to her, raised his eyebrows, then looked back at the sinking, beginning on the dishes. “Oh? Do I?”

“Yeah. You’re not very subtle.” She accepted the first plate, drying it and setting it on the counter carefully. “You stare at him a lot, you know. Differently from when you stare at Alana. Or me. You get this fuzziness to the corners of your eyes, this little smile.”

“You’re very perceptive.” He handed her another plate. “Do not become too smart for your own good, Abigail.” He gave her a playful smile, and she leaned against him playfully as well.

“He looks at you too,” she pointed out, “Not quite the same way. More like he’s in awe. You’re never looking when he does.” Hannibal slowed his movements, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. “He told me you make him feel like he matters.”

“He spoke about me to you?”

“Yeah.” Abigail smiled to herself. “But I’m sworn to silence, sorry.” As if to stress her point, Abigail began humming to herself, refusing to look over at Hannibal and his questioning eyes. Now he was desperately curious. When the dishes were done, she turned and gave him a final hug, knowing when they walked out she would be leaving.

“Just trust me on something,” she whispered, “And go for it.”

She was pulling away and leaving the room before Hannibal could think to hold her back against him.

*

Will had walked Alana and Abigail to the door with Hannibal, wished them well- promised to visit Abigail soon, once the week was out and he was back on his feet. Alana told him to call her for anything. He’d smiled, Hannibal had caught it- he thought it looked different from the smile Will used on him. It didn’t quite hit his eyes.

When the door was closed Will was already walking away, towards the stairs. Hannibal let him go, turned the lights off downstairs, made a quick check that everything was in order, then made his way upstairs. He lingered in the hallway a moment, before knocking on Will’s door. Will called something and Hannibal opened the door, just in time to see him stripped to the waist, tugging on the cap to his new pills.

“Do you need assistance?”

Will shook his head. “No, I think I can change them fine tonight. I’m just going to pass out, it feels like someone is poking _into_ my back with a cattle prod.” He sighed, walking over to Hannibal. “Thank you for tonight. It was...it was good to see Abigail.”

“She seemed pleased to see you.” Will nodded.

“She wants me to visit. I told her I would, as soon as I can- once I’m back home, settled in. I told her I’d bring her out to meet the dogs. She liked that idea.” Hannibal smiled, and Will reached out, running his hand up along his arm. “Maybe you could join us.”

“I think you and Abigail would benefit from time between just the two of you.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t join us for some of it.” Will smiled, hand running down Hannibal’s arm now, finding and taking his hand. Hannibal squeezed Will’s in response, felt his blood pumping slightly faster inside his temples. He thought to speak, but the thought was gone when Will leaned in, placing a kiss just as gentle on his mouth as Hannibal’s had been previously- the slightest brush, and then he was gone, saying, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and closing himself in the guest bathroom to change his bandages.

Hannibal stood there staring at the door, his mouth tingling.

*

He laid in bed, trying to sleep. But Abigail’s voice was in his head, playful, _go for it_ \- he rolled onto his side- _he watches you too_ \- back to his back. Hannibal sighed, staring up at the dark ceiling. He had seen Will stare, but he had never seen more than curiosity- the _awe_ Abigail had spoke of was a mystery to him.

He traced his mouth, felt the ghost of Will’s lips. He had told Alana he wanted Will to make the choice, and it hadn’t been a lie. He could have found a way to make Will desire it, he had no doubt. The plans swam in his brain, satisfying, until he stared at his grey eyes and remembered him limp against his body. Then they were simply sour.

He tossed his covers back and stood up, forgoing his robe and slipping from his room down to Will’s door. He wasn't exactly sure what he would say when Will opened it- if he did- perhaps he wouldn’t say anything.

He was fairly sure he’d kiss Will again.

He stared at the wood for a moment, then knocked quickly, waited a moment- then, hushed, “Will?” He didn’t think the man was asleep yet, but it was hard to say. There was silence, and Hannibal should have gone back to his room. He knew that. Instead he pushed on the door, slipping into the dark room and pressing his back for a moment to the door as it closed. He stared at the bed, wondering why Will wasn’t up at the sound of his voice, the door opening. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, Hannibal had determined that much from their sessions. Was he caught in a nightmare, perhaps?

Hannibal advanced towards the bed, bare feet silent, tilting his head as he neared to catch a glimpse. In the dark it was hard to tell, but he could tell Will’s face was twisting, his mouth opening and closing, as if speaking, but there was no sound. His steps quickened and he settled on the edge of the bed, reaching out and pressing a hand to Will’s forehead, pushing under his wet curls. His skin was feverish, sweaty, and Hannibal frowned.

He had been fine when Hannibal had left him.

He leaned over him, pushing his sweaty hair back, frowning. He had exhibited no signs of illness, and something like this did not simply come with no signs. He had been fine during and after dinner- tired perhaps, but that was expected. It wasn’t the food- Hannibal had too much pride to truly consider that option-

He looked over at the beside table, finding the bottle of pain killers Will had opened, staring at them. A new drug-

As Will convulsed, his head tipping back, Hannibal realized he was having a reaction to the medication.

Hannibal tried to remember how many Will had taken earlier, as he was walking in, as he braced the man, steadying him. Two was the recommended dose- he didn’t believe Will had taken more. They wouldn’t have fully dissolved yet-

Hannibal stood, pulling Will up and lifting him with a small grunt. Will was naked except for his underwear, his entire body covered in a thin layer of sweat, hot to the touch. Hannibal shoved the bathroom door open with his shoulder, rather forcefully, , then dropped down to the floor by the toilet. The impact made him grimace, but he ignored it, settling Will so he was leaning against him and pushing the seat up.

“Will,” he said, “Will, can you hear me? We need to get this out of your system.” He thought to leave Will, to rummage through his medical supplies for syrup of ipecac, but that would take too long. “Will.” His voice boomed, rattled off the walls, stern, but Will’s eyes were rolling back, his body swaying, barely able to hold itself up. Gritting his teeth, Hannibal braced him, arm behind his neck, bent up so his hand was on his forehead, pulling his bangs back. With his other hand he forced Will’s mouth open, shoving two fingers in past his tongue and into the back of his throat. Will gagged, and Hannibal pulled out, grasping across his chest as Will’s other arm as he choked, then lurched forward, vomiting with a broken sound. Hannibal held him steady, the younger man gasping for breath before retching a second time, coughing violently at the end as he shook.

Hannibal hushed him, pressing his forehead into Will’s matted curls, stroking along his forehead. Will hiccuped, his eyes glossy but no longer rolled back, staring into the dark. When he seemed to calm down, Hannibal stood, dropping the toilet seat and flushing, helping Will up, pulling gently. Will fell against his chest, mumbling something, and Hannibal guided him back to the bed. He wanted to change the sheets, to clean Will up, but he didn’t think the man was ready for that. Instead he nudged Will, when he fell to the bed, to slip over to the other, untouched side. Will did with a protesting groan, as Hannibal tucked him in, settling the blanket of the damp sheet and sitting on it, in the dark.

He wasn’t going to move, until his heart stopped hammering in his chest. Until Will knew his name. Until he was pulled back into reality.

This second vigil over the younger man didn’t last as long. Will was still feverish, but within an hour had stopped shaking. Hannibal couldn’t be sure the man was sleeping, as he still tossed restlessly, made small sounds into the pillows and blanket, depending on his position.

Within two hours his eyes opened at he stared at Hannibal, licking his dry lips and grimacing.

“I feel like death,” he muttered, and Hannibal exhaled from the depths of his stomach.

“I believe you had a reaction to your medication,” he said, “You took the new pills tonight, yet?” Will nodded. “Best not take them again.”

“My mouth tastes like a grave.”

“I needed to purge your system of the drug. I had to induce vomiting.” Will groaned.

“Lovely.” He sat up, slowly. “I need to brush my teeth. With bleach.” Then, as if in an after thought. “I’m sorry you had to do that.” Hannibal reached out, running his hand along Will’s collar bone to clutch at his far shoulder, and the man openly shivered.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he offered, standing, helping Will up. He walked him to the bathroom, twisted the dial for the light so it was only a dim glow, then left, returning to the bed to begin stripping it. He had the blankets off and the sheet partially free when Will walked back out, slowly, lethargically, watching him in the very faint light the bathroom was providing.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the sheets.” Will frowned, shifting, his sweat having cooled and now he felt cold.

“I’m sorry. Let me do that-“

“Please, Will, it’s fine. I can manage. We should clean you up before you get back into bed.” Will snorted.

“I do not want to deal with attempting to to maneuver a bath right now. I don’t know how much longer I can even stand.” Hannibal stopped, standing up and releasing his hold on the sheets.

“Do you feel light headed?” he asked as he moved closer, reaching out to touch Will’s forehead. His fever seemed to have gone mostly down.

“Yeah, a little dizzy. Can I sit down?” Hannibal nodded, letting him settle on the rumpled, half removed sheet. “Just let me sit here a minute, then I’ll do that and just pass out. You can...you can go to bed.”

“Not until I know you are settled.” Hannibal hesitated, licking his lips, before adding, “I do think you should clean up first. You will rest so much better.” Will sighed heavily. “Allow me to help you. You needn't do anything.”

Will’s head snapped up, and he stared at Hannibal in the near dark. “...Are you offering to give me a bath?” A moment passed, and when Hannibal didn’t speak Will gave a nervous laugh. “You know what...sure. It might be what’s left of the drugs talking, but sure. If it means you’ll go back to bed sooner. I feel bad.”

“Please do not,” Hannibal forced out, his mouth suddenly dry. “Do you think you can stand now?” Will nodded. “Good. Come with me- the master bathroom will be more comfortable.”

Will hesitated, then stood up, walking behind Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t turn to light on in his bedroom, but gestured towards the bed for Will to sit. Will walked over to it, and Hannibal imagined that he wanted to fall back into it, nestle into the pillows, wondering if they smelled of Hannibal’s cologne.

It was a pleasant little fantasy that he nursed as he filled the marble tub partially full, careful to keep it at the appropriate level for Will’s healing injuries. When he was satisfied, he turned the water off, standing in the dark and making his way to a small cabinet, next to the large oval mirror above his sink. He opened it, pulling out a few of the candles he kept hidden away in there, settling them in their usual spots and lighting them, the next round around the room settling a burning stick of sandalwood incense.

By then, Will had gotten off the bed and made his way to the door, peering in. He looked confused by the display,and Hannibal smiled.

“You will find it soothing,” he said, “Trust me, William. I know from experience.”

“Soothe me too much and I’ll just fall asleep in your tub,” he mumbled, staring down into the deep jade marble. Hannibal wondered what he was thinking. “Could you, uhm...” Will made a twirling motion with his hand, and Hannibal turned, heard Will tugging on his underwear and the soft little groans he tended to make when settling in or standing up. The sound of water moving, and then, “Okay, I...I guess I’m good.”

Hannibal took a deep breath, told himself not to focus on the fact that Will was naked, would be naked beneath his finger tips- but that this was a trust exercise. Will was opening up. That was good- that was a step towards Hannibal. And he did so want Will to make a choice that included him.

He turned, walking over and settling on the edge of the tub, grabbing the large bath sponge and dipping it into the warm water, before coating it in soap. The scent of lavender mixed with the sandalwood, and even Hannibal felt drowsy, until he pressed against the skin of Will’s shoulder, working the suds along the tense muscle. Then he was suddenly wide awake. Will made a little sound, dipping his head forward as Hannibal ran the sponge along the back of his neck, to his other shoulder. He was careful to work at the bits of skin he could, that wouldn’t aggravate Will’s wounds- he was pleased to see Will had stripped of his bandages while Hannibal prepared the bath. The skin was still an angry, healing red. Hannibal knew it would be raised and colored for months, before it paled to the risen white scars Will would bare for the rest of his life.

Hannibal wondered what they’d feel like, a year from now, beneath his tongue. He swallowed and slipped from the lip of the tub down to his knees on the floor, the sleeves of his shirt threatening to come loose form where they had been rolled to his elbow. He ran the sponge along Will’s collar bone, the younger man’s head tipping back now, watched as Will sighed.

“Okay,” he whispered, “you were right. I’m relaxed. I could sleep here.” Hannibal chuckled, rubbed along Will’s chest, down just below his ribs. Those stormy eyes cracked open as Hannibal worked along Will’s stomach, staring across at the edge of the tub, not the skin, not the skin he wanted to touch and taste and bite so badly. Not the fine trail of hair starting at Will’s navel. Not the way muscle clenched in reaction to his touch before relaxing.

He detoured over Will’s hip, leaning slightly over the tub, brushed his thigh. Will made a little noise, and Hannibal looked up at him- found he was staring at him. When had Hannibal not noticed that? He went to move back, but Will reached up, hands wet and smelling like lavender, caught his face and pulling him closer, pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s. He tasted like mint, and Hannibal’s mind ceased all functioning for a full breath.

“Will,” he whispered as the man’s mouth moved against his, as hands stroked his jawline. Will exhaled against his lips, barely pulling back.

“ Don’t,” Will nearly silently begged, “Don’t tell me I was wrong.”

Something in Hannibal’s chest tightened and he closed the gap, his free arm carefully wrapping loosely around Will and holding him. The younger man made a pleased little sound, tilting his head and flicking his tongue along Hannibal’s lower lip, the psychiatrist opening his mouth and wondering if he was dreaming.

He could have kissed Will forever- he knew it in that moment. The yielding mouth that still seemed to fight him time to time- pressure to change the tilts of their heads, to let his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth. He knew he’d never get sick of it. He wanted to dive into Will’s mouth and drown.

His hand was moving the sponge along Will’s thigh without realizing it, and as he swiped along his inner thigh, Will gasped, jerking. Hannibal tried to pull back, but Will was shaking his head. “Please don’t,” he whispered, sucking at his lower lip, and Hannibal dared to let the sponge trace up the sensitive expanse of Will’s inner thigh, his knuckles brushing the curls at their juncture before he was rubbing along his length, Will gasping, eyes widening. Another little sound, and he was clutching at Hannibal’s arm, worrying his lower lip, eyes pleading for so many things that the psychiatrist couldn’t read.

Hannibal leaned in, kissed at Will’s jawline, heard him mewl as his fingers brushed his sex- he was half hard at best, and Hannibal was fairly sure the drugs were still too thick in Will’s system for him to actually achieve, let alone maintain, an erection. So he kept his touches light, moving along his thighs and pelvis, leaving Will sighing, his sounds melting from aroused to contented joy, smooth and sleepy. Hannibal finally pulled back, setting the sponge aside and standing, gathering up a large fluffy towel. Will stood, seemingly much less modest now- and Hannibal was rather proud of his returned self control, he was more concerned with getting the towel around Will than examining the flesh always hidden from him. Will took the towel and worked it along skin as Hannibal disappeared, making a quick trip back to the guest room. He turned off the bathroom light left on there, gathering up fresh bandages and a pair of Will’s underwear, before returning.

“Here,” he said, handing Will the small article of clothing. “Once you’re comfortable, I can bandage your back.”

Will did as he was told, dropping the towel and stepping into his boxer briefs, then sitting on the bed so Hannibal could bandage him up. By the time he was done, Will was yawning, eyelids heavy and partially closed.

“Lay down,” Hannibal whispered, and Will was shaking his head.

“Hann-ibal, this is your bed.”

“And you are welcome to it.” Hannibal’s breath hitched once he’d spoken, silent enough to not be heard, and Will hesitated only a moment before he stretched out, slipping under the blanket. Hannibal walked around, settling on his back on the other side. He had barely ceased moving when Will was rolling over, onto his side, leaning into Hannibal and pressing against the side of his chest, one arm draping over him.

“G’night,” he mumbled, sighing, and Hannibal dared to curl his arm under neath Will, to toy with a few stray curls.

“Good night, dear Will.”

*

Hannibal was aware of the breath against his side, ghosting against his pajamas, before he opened his eyes. He was aware of Will’s face pressed into the side of his ribs, the hand draped over his belly. He was aware of the way one of Will’s legs was rubbing along his in the man’s sleep before he opened his eyes and knew he wasn’t dreaming.

Staring up at the ceiling, Hannibal couldn’t help but tighten his one arm hold on Will, twirl a chocolate curl around a finger. The man mumbled and nestled in closer, still lost in sleep. Hannibal considered getting up to make breakfast, but knew he couldn’t pull away without disturbing Will.

Besides, he had no real interest in leaving the bed that very moment. He contented himself to enjoy Will’s warmth, the smell of lavender mixing in with his flesh from the late night bath, the way he seemed so easily intimate in his touches. Only when Will began to stir did he dare really look, watch the way he pressed closer first, before lifting his head, looking at Hannibal behind the haze of fresh sleep.

“Good morning,” Hannibal whispered, and Will yawned.

“G’morning,” he mumbled, pulling himself closer, draping up onto Hannibal’s chest. “Be honest with me, am I still asleep?”

“Only if we are both still in slumber,” Hannibal offered, smiling, and Will smiled back. “Do you remember much?”

“Enough,” he said, and Hannibal knew that meant all of it. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He tipped his head down, kissed Hannibal’s mouth gently. “I hope it’s okay I did that,” he whispered, still nearly against those lips, and Hannibal smiled.

“If it’s what you want,” he started, “then it is more than okay.” Will smiled, tilting his head to the side slightly, one arm folding up onto Hannibal’s chest with him, toying with one of the buttons of his pajamas.

“What if I did it again?” Hannibal’s smile broadened.

“Perhaps you should discover for yourself.”

Will was kissing him as the last word left his mouth, running that hand up along his chest, seeming as if he wanted to climb on top of Hannibal, sink into his skin and right into his ribs. Hannibal found the idea appealing. From the way Will’s body slid against his as he wrapped his arms around him- very careful where his hands put pressure-he would rather enjoy the idea as well.

Will’s mouth had lost most of it’s overly minty flavor, retained something completely unique to him that Hannibal found he couldn’t get enough of, as he pushed his thigh between Will’s legs, the younger man whimpering, grinding down into it. Hannibal was reminded of flesh he had barely touched earlier, and then he was rolling Will onto his side, joining him, reaching between them and palming at him carefully. Will shivered, pushing against that hand, rocking into it, managing to hold Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal kissed him then, kissed him as he wrapped a hand around him, as he touched him and felt Will reacting, breathing, whimpering, saying his name into his mouth in a way that made Hannibal shiver. Will pushed into his fist, and Hannibal was hard and dizzy himself and didn’t care, couldn’t get enough of Will’s lip between his teeth, his tongue pressing against his own. Every little breath he drank down, every whimper and moan and utterance of his name. He swallowed it down like wine until he was drunk and Will was shuddering with release, eyes rolling back and hands gripping at Hannibal desperately.

Hannibal’s plans for breakfast turned into plans for lunch.

*

Will took a deep breath, hands in his pockets, before stepping away from Hannibal’s car. The psychiatrist watched as he made his way up the steps, slowly, not reaching for the front door right away. Just standing, waiting.

Hannibal knew the house behind the door was quiet. Alana would have Will’s dogs back later that evening. Until then, the house could breathe in its solitude.

He walked up behind Will, the younger man’s bag over his shoulder. He was still treating Will with as much tenderness as he could manage, as if he had been released from the hospital just that morning. Hannibal almost wished he had- it was a shame to see him returning to his own space, retracting from Hannibal’s.

They slipped inside and Hannibal set the bag down by Will’s desk as the younger man looked around, as if the calmness was foreign. Hannibal thought it might be.

“It’ll be good to see the dogs again,” Will said, turning back to look at Hannibal. “Good to go back to teaching.”

“I feel much more at ease knowing Jack has caught the man who is responsible for this disruption in your life.” Hannibal reached out, cupped Will’s cheek, kissed him very lightly. The call from Jack two days prior had been a blessing, as far as Hannibal was concerned. He didn’t fear a shadow coming to life and finishing the job- skewering his darling when he was so far away.

Will was nodding, trying to catch Hannibal’s lips for a deeper kiss. “You could stay, you know.” Hannibal pulled back further, raising an eyebrow. “Tonight. You could. I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone yet...” Will shrugged, leaned his forehead against Hannibal’s shoulder, finishing with, “Besides, I saw your bag in your car. I know you were hoping.”

Hannibal laughed, smiling. “You seem to have caught me, dear Will.”

“Good.” Will looked up. “I hope you know I don’t intend to let go.”

Hannibal kissed his temple, closing his eyes for a moment. Will had asked him, blatantly in the car, how he thought they should tell Abigail. He didn’t seem too concerned over Alana- but then again, Hannibal reasoned, Alana was an adult woman, not the girl Will was hoping could step into his small space and bring with her the scent of family. Hannibal had simply suggested, rather playfully, he kiss Will in front of her and allow Abigail to reason her way to a conclusion. By Will’s laugh, that may be exactly what happened.

Hannibal watched Will leave the room, off to inspect the rest of the house. He turned to return to the car, to fetch his own bag, reasoning that for once, it had been far better to give someone to agency to make a decision for themselves. Will’s choices were proving far too exceptional for Hannibal to want to interfere.

“Will you be alright if I run to fetch some ingredients so I can make dinner?” Hannibal asked, slipping back inside. Will had appeared and settled on the couch with a groan and little grimace. He hadn’t bothered to get another pain killer prescription to cover the pills he couldn’t take, and while he was doing much better, Hannibal knew at the end of the day, there was always something hurting. Will had reverted back to his aspirin to cover anything he couldn’t handle.

“You don’t have to cook,” Will pointed out, “And who’s to say you can’t make something with what I have?” Hannibal raised his eyebrows and Will shrugged, laughing. “Okay, okay, you’re right. There’s like nothing here. But still, you don’t have to cook. Let me do something.”

Hannibal crossed the room, bending down to kiss Will’s mouth, smiling into it as the man reached up to grip at Hannibal’s jacket.

“Oh dear Will,” he breathed, smelling his lavender soap that had found such a perfect coupling with Will’s skin, “You are doing far more than you should be by simply sitting here.”

He kissed him again, silently vowing to keep that statement true. He’d be caring for his Will for quite some time to come, Hannibal was sure. It was alluring, exciting- filling him with a giddiness that coiled warm in his belly. Filling him with something sweet smelling, delicate on his tongue. Something like love, something like family-

Companionship, down to it’s barest bones.


End file.
